Blue Flame
by acciomischief
Summary: In her fifth year at Hogwarts, Bellatrix stumbles upon a beautiful secret. One-shot, unusual pairing.


**A/N:** I wrote this a _**long**_ long time ago but never actually got around to publishing it. I believe it was supposed to be for an unusual pairings challenge where the characters were chosen for me at random. I had forgotten all about it until I went through some of my old notes the other day and re-discovered it, and I really liked it. Even if it's wayyy too late for the challenge now, I figured I would publish it anyway in case—by some miracle—someone out there would like to read it. So here it is.

* * *

Bellatrix was restless once again. No matter how many potions she took, how many spells she cast, she could not fall asleep. Her beautiful face had become marked with the tell-tale signs of sleepless nights. Dark circles under her once bright eyes, heavy lids that refused to shut and hand tremors that she physically could not stop. It was another night reading letters by the light of a candle. Another night spent in corridors by the light of her wand.

Another night with the Gryffindor.

Bellatrix made her way up the frozen stone steps of the dungeon, the cold seeping into her toes and crawling up her skin. Goosebumps rose on her bare arms, her body trembled, her teeth chattered. She kept moving, for fear of missing _him_.

She didn't understand what was so special about the boy; all she really knew was that she'd keep coming back for more. Keep longing to see him even when she knew it was wrong. Keep lying awake, thinking about him. His midnight ritual had now become her ritual as well. It was _**their **_ritual, even if he was unaware of her presence.

Bellatrix stole through the shadows with ease, the darkness welcoming her like an old friend. She extinguished her wand's glow as she came upon the main floor, where portraits snoozed and professors patrolled. Exasperatingly enough, the painted personas spent more time in dreams than she did. Brow twitching in slight annoyance, she made her way past the numerous likenesses until she reached a familiar cloistered area of the castle. She rested her shaking hand upon the intricately carved archway and looked out into the snowy courtyard, her eyes searching for him.

There, in the far corner of the enclosure beside the fountain. He had not yet begun, lucky for Bellatrix, who swallowed an aching lump of shame. This Gryffindor held power over her _without even knowing it_. He would be there every night, creating magnificent displays in the sky, and sure enough, every time, Bellatrix would come crawling to him like a pathetic child to bask in the beauty of his intoxicating magic, unable to ignore the pull she felt toward it.

The boy himself was hauntingly handsome in the light of his own creations, despite his house and beliefs. Brilliant red hair, arched brows, sloped nose, sharp jaw...the features of an aristocrat. How ill-fated that he was a pureblood. It would be so much easier to hate him if he were not.

In the silence of the courtyard, Bellatrix heard his smooth voice breathe the words that would start it all.

"Expecto Patronum."

The silver, ethereal birds did not burst forth from his wand as they usually did. Tonight, the winged creatures emerged slowly, each taking their time. They grew at the tip, one by one, until they fell like a drop of rain—plummeting for just a millisecond until they unfurled their feathers and took to the skies, soaring high above the ground. It didn't escape her notice that the birds were _eagles_, which symbolised the triumph of the light over the dark forces.

Once several of the graceful ice-blue animals were in the air, the boy allowed them to move in their own direction. The rest was done non-verbally from here, a display of how skilled he actually was.

As he lit several artificial blue fires on top of the snow, he began smiling.

Bellatrix smiled right along with him in the darkness.

The world was his playground. The air around him crackled with magic, the sky lit up above him, the ground seemed to thrum with energy. Bellatrix would never understand how others could sleep through this, how they could not feel the pull of such exquisite magic like she did.

The Gryffindor gathered a mass of snow into a ball and shot it up into the air, so high in the atmosphere that it looked like a second miniature moon. Here he paused to take a breath, standing among the blue flames and birds in the glow of the moon and the stars. Bellatrix held her breath, wondering what was coming next. With an unexpected crack that sent a jolt of shock through her body, the boy exploded the snow and it began to fall in tiny, delicate flakes. They glinted as they fluttered down, like little diamonds.

The lion then swept his arm in an arc, shooting a spray of water into the air. It automatically froze in the chilling temperature and created an intricate swirling ice sculpture. Bellatrix wanted to get closer, but fought the urge to do so. He was finished. The stars shone brightly upon his work, making it seem as if the whole area was sparkling. The luminescent flames, ghostly eagles, delicate snowfall and gorgeous ice sculptures were truly a winter wonderland.

It was the flames that really got to her.

The fire was as blue as the ocean, and just as wild and unpredictable as one. It could be unforgiving if it chooses to be, but also a source of warmth and protection. It was burning on the frigid snow, not melting it but seemingly _thriving_off it. Living with it…needing it.

_Two things that were completely opposite but still worked together in perfect harmony._

The only sound was that of the fire crackling and the soft whooshing of the wind. In the middle of it all he stood, staring up into the sky with that look on his face. The one that was sad, angry, and broken all in one. He remained in that position for a whole five minutes, making her itch just wondering what was running through his mind. What do little lions think of when they stare into the sky?

Bellatrix blinked in shock as the Gryffindor suddenly moved. He began destroying his work, anger taking power over his other emotions. Viciously, Fabian Prewett began to hack away at his ice sculptures until they were in pieces on the ground. He shot a jet of light at each bird and they disappeared, dissolving into nothing in mid-air, the end of their very brief lives. The snow stopped falling and he heartlessly smothered the beautiful flames with his dragon-hide boots.

The girl couldn't help it. She pressed her face against the stone archway and felt her heart crumbling. Idiotic Gryffindor. He just had to ruin it. What had made him angry? What made him destroy his own masterpiece? It upset Bellatrix that he was in distress, and that she cared about it.

The redhead was done. Any piece of evidence that he had been there was destroyed. He was coming her way quickly, obviously wanting to get back to the warmth and privacy of his tower. Bella would let him. She stepped back into the shadows as he entered the archways, a hand to his forehead in frustration.

"Gideon...you idiot." he muttered to himself as he passed. Bellatrix delighted in hearing his voice so closely, but was confused at the meaning of his words. The boy's brother? What about him? She supposed she would never know, because she would never, ever talk to him. She was a Black. A Slytherin. And he was everything she was supposed to hate.

Bellatrix cast one last glance at the empty courtyard, her tired eyes almost missing the dying light of a blue ember. Quickly, she conjured a jar and summoned it towards her. Into the jar went the warm coal, which continued to glow despite the setting. The lovely little magical flame was hers now.

Bellatrix sighed as her feet began to take her on a path of their own, despite her longing to walk out in to the snow. She wanted to stand where he had stood. She knew it was best that she just return to her dorm. There was so little she knew about Fabian Prewett, and so much she wanted to know. but for now she would return to bed.

As she settled under her covers, she gazed at the little jar on her bedside table, melancholy filling her. _In another life, _she thought, as she shut her eyes and began to dream.

The flame inside the airtight jar continued to burn bright and strong.


End file.
